831 Henry Rosewood

Mia jolted awake, gasping for breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the terror of the nightmare that had just ripped her from sleep.

Sweat clung to her skin, the sheets twisted tangled around her legs. Disoriented for a moment, she scanned the room, the familiar cozy glow of their bedside lamp a beacon in the darkness and the familiar outline of Jeff's sleeping form beside her a comforting presence.

A tremor ran through her body as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her. It had been vivid, a suffocating dream where Henry loomed over her bed, his face twisted in a cruel smile. It felt so real, like his cold breath was tickling her cheek, his mocking voice echoing in her ears.

"Mia?" Jeff stirred beside her, his voice gravelly with sleep, was a soothing balm to her racing pulse.